Caged
by zaraX
Summary: Katniss wakes up in a hospital with no recollection of how she has gotten there. She finds another patient in the same predicament, and together, they form the puzzle of their memories piece by piece while trying to avoid dangerous feelings for each other. Katniss x Cato.


**AN**: Hello, I'm back from hiatus! I've changed a few things but other than that, it's still me, Zara. I took down my other story from last year because I honestly didn't like where I was going with it. I sort of forgot about this ship sometime in November because I became obsessed with a few other fandoms, but I started thinking of it the other day and somehow found the motivation to give it another shot. Anyways…here's chapter one of my next story. Reminder—this is a **catoniss** fanfic. If you don't ship it, don't read it. If you do and you think I should continue this fic, leave a review, please xx

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the characters/settings of the Hunger Games Trilogy (but I do own a crappy laptop and a fanfiction account so..), all rights belong to Suzanne Collins.

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Chapter 1: Lost

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"_Katniss! Run!"_

_A blur of green and brown engulfed her vision. Somewhere in the distance, sounds of screaming echoed through the stillness. Her legs moved on their own accord, pushing her to stumble backwards before breaking into a clumsy sprint. Branches dragged their nails across her face. Leaves crunched beneath her boots. And just behind her was a person's ragged breath, getting closer and closer, but never quite reaching her. Always whispering one word; "Safe."_

"_Safe, safe, safe."_

_She shivered as the forest around her suddenly vanished and left her in a familiar darkness. She didn't remember exactly where she was, or why this void was so frighteningly endless. It just…existed, like a gap that stretched in the spaces between the shadow and the light. _

_A massive silhouette right in front of her slowly turned around, the movement catching her attention. A pair of luminous eyes stared at her hungrily. There was no other sound but her rapid breathing as she stared right back into the beast's captivating eyes. She had seen them before. And the beast—with all of its passionate anger and barely audible growl—was too familiar._

_It bared its shining teeth and stepped out from beneath the shadows. Katniss blinked bemusedly. Not a beast, but a wolf. It padded around her with its head hanging low, almost in defeat, but it's eyes were intently focused up on hers. It studied her cynically, then sniffed the air, once. _

_And almost as if she knew what resided in the darkness, Katniss turned her gaze back to the shadows. All was silent, until a voice from the recesses whispered two words that sent a wave of fear crashing down on her. Just as she had predicted._

"_Not safe."_

* * *

"…some minor complications, but otherwise, she is perfectly healthy."

A brisk, female voice jarred Katniss from her flashback. Her eyes flew open and she gasped for air. What the _hell _justhappened?

"Wolf," she panted, "Where's…wha…there was a—a wolf!…"

A nurse bustled to her bedside, wearing a frown of disapproval. "She's still confused," she explained to someone standing near the door with a forced breezy laugh. Her features shifted back into a stern glare when she turned to Katniss. She nimbly picked up a syringe and injected a clear serum into Katniss' forearm.

"But I saw it all in my head," she protested, barely noticing the needle in her arm. "It had glowing eyes and warned me that this wasn't safe, that this…what's going on?" Katniss blinked back into reality and a narrowed her eyes when she noticed her surroundings.

"_Where am I_?" she asked, all thoughts of the wolf vanished. She tried sitting up, but realized that there was a metal restraint that kept her clamped to the bed and tightened around her the more she struggled. Panic rose in her chest when she realized she was trapped in a completely new and unfamiliar environment. "Where—how did I—get me _out _of here!" she growled at the nurse next to her, who, Katniss realized, was completely coated from head to toe in a pale shimmering powder that made her seem very eccentric.

_I'm in the Capitol? _

"So she really doesn't remember," a voice mused. Katniss craned her neck to try to identify the owner of the smooth voice, but the nurse blocked her view.

"Not a thing, sir," the nurse replied primly.

Katniss hesitated in her futile attempts to break free. _Doesn't remember? _What was that supposed to mean anyway? She tried thinking back to what happened before she had been strapped down in the hospital bed, but for some reason, everything seemed to be blank. Like there was a gaping hole where memories were supposed to be. _Think, think, think; where were you before this? When did you get here, and why are you here? _She exhaled slowly. Right—home. District 12. The Reaping. And…she had volunteered to take Prim's place. _But what happened after you walked on stage?_ There was pink…and…and…

Her heart hammered maddeningly when she realized that they were right. She literally _couldn't remember. _After she thought back to her shaky decision to volunteer, the rest of the memories faded to black. And now—here she was in a hospital room, strapped down to the bed, being supervised by a cranky nurse who had just injected her with god knew what, and she couldn't even remember how she had gotten here. Fear usually wasn't something she experienced often, but this was a whole different form of reality. It was the unknown.

"Where am I?" she repeated urgently. "And how did I get here?"

"Sir," the nurse raised a thin eyebrow. "Permission to answer the girl?"

"Negative," came the reply.

"Then at least tell me who you are," Katniss said warily.

"Caria Tate, Tribute Nurse," she informed her.

A sickening malaise began to sink in. "Tr-Tribute Nurse?" Katniss repeated. Then…where were the others?

"Thank me later," Caria said stiffly. "And thank _him _for allowing you to live." She jerked her head back towards the door.

Katniss was about shoot back a remark about not being able to see the person to whom she owed her gratitude, but the even sound of footsteps nearing her made her words vanish. She swallowed anxiously.

A middle-aged man with a peculiar beard stepped into her sight and quirked his lips upwards in a small smile. "Allow me to introduce myself," he spoke in a friendly tone that immediately made Katniss feel skeptical. He held his hand out and she took it, staring him in the eye. "Seneca Crane," he squeezed her hand.

"Katniss Everdeen," she murmured quietly, still feeling distrustful. His name rang a bell, though.

"Oh yes," he nodded. For the briefest moment, she caught his pleasant smile flicker into something of a grimace. Then again, her head had been pounding with a headache over the past few minutes so she could've just imagined it all. "We know who you are, Miss Everdeen," he said coolly.

"You're lying," Katniss scowled, and shook her head. They had no idea.

She started to withdraw her hand but Seneca clung on to it tightly. She flashed him a quizzical glance.

In a fraction of a second he leaned in towards her and she froze when she sensed his lips next to her ear, whispering, barely audible, "Everyone knows you. But I'd be a bit more careful now, if I were you, Girl-on-Fire. One more trick and you're evicted."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion as she watched him step away, almost hesitantly walking back towards the door. "What d'you mean by that?" she called after him. And 'Girl-on-Fire'_? _What kind of nickname was that?

Seneca smoothly replied, "I'm afraid I don't have the authority to fully explain. But don't be so concerned." He placed his hand on the doorknob and paused before turning it. "You're in good hands, Miss Everdeen."

* * *

Time became nothing but an irrelevant concept as Katniss began to have less flashbacks and hallucinations, leaving her conscience alone to wander in her white-walled room. She had been in here long enough to go mental. Fortunately, the massive amount of questions and theories she was left to mull over kept her mind occupied. Anything could have happened during the time between the reaping and her arrival at the hospital. It could've been something as small as an injury on the way to the Capitol, or something more realistic, like the Games…which she decided not to think about.

They still refused to answer her questions, stating that they didn't have the permission or authority to do so. When she demanded to speak to the President himself, they jabbed another needle in her arm, effectively silencing her to sleep. It happened quite often and she had the puncture marks on her arm to prove it. She was starting to wonder if the liquid in the syringe did more than knock her out. So far, there weren't any drastic signs of mutation, so she seemed to be physically okay.

But her mind continued to wonder. Maybe…if no one was going to answer her questions…she'd have to find out for herself—take matters into her own hands and do some exploring.

Nurse Tate was a strict, uncompromising woman with the humor of dry tree bark. She never smiled or spoke in a friendly manner, and she often recommended "Option B"—a drug that would keep Katniss sleeping 12 hours longer than the prescribed serum. Fortunately, her assistant, Chelsea, was the exact opposite; a jubilant and naive intern who was only a few years older than Katniss.

"Chelsea?" Katniss spoke up once Caria had left the room. "Could you let me out of here for just a bit? I need to use the bathroom," she looked pointedly at the door which led to the hospital hallway. They had removed the metal restraints, but they still kept the door locked in case she attempted to escape.

"Of course!" Chelsea acknowledged her with a bright smile. Katniss inwardly smirked in triumph when Chelsea slid the key in the lock and swung the door open. "Just be back soon because Nurse Tate will need to give you your injection in ten minutes," she added.

"Sure," Katniss agreed.

She carefully stepped out into the hallway and scanned for signs of healers, but it seemed to be completely empty. In fact, the only sounds she heard came from the faint whirring and beeping of the monitor that Chelsea was using. The hallway was dimly lit, which was strange after spending long hours under glaring ceiling lights. The semi-darkness was comforting.

She tugged the long sleeves of her shirt lower and clenched her fists tightly, feeling uncertain of the looming space ahead. On her right were more doors, all identical to the one that marked her room, and on the left were a few doors that led to the nurse's offices, a restroom, and an elevator. She walked straight ahead.

All of the doors to the other patient rooms were left slightly ajar, Katniss noted, as she peered into each one to find them empty with the lights switched off. She quickly realized that she was the only patient here. At least, on this floor. It gave her a queasy feeling and she found herself wishing for someone else…anyone other than the two nurses. The emptiness was too unsettling. It raised more questions and suspicions that made her brim with anxiety.

She was about to turn back around when, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that she had just walked by a patient door that was closed. She froze, and glanced down at the crack beneath the door where light from inside was slanting through.

_Another patient._

She bit her lip hesitantly.

She wasn't supposed to be here—that much was obvious. Patients weren't even allowed to leave their room unsupervised in the first place. But whoever was in there was the only other person on the floor who she could possibly talk to and get answers from. How could she let the opportunity pass?

She cautiously stepped closer to the door and tilted her head, listening for sounds emitting from inside. It was just as silent as the rest of the floor. No nurses or healers inside. That was sort of…odd.

Katniss brought her hand to the doorknob and to her relief, the door easily swung open when she pushed.

She surveyed the room with alert, grey eyes. It was exactly the same as hers. Bright, artificial lights, high tech monitors and…

Her breath hitched when she noticed him. Not in the pleasant way—in the _oh-shit-I-shouldn't-be-here _way. He was strapped to the bed just as she had been, but his body looked completely broken. "Critical condition" would have been a major understatement. A thick white strip of cloth was wrapped around his head and covered half his face, at least dozen tubes connected to his body, his left arm was bent at an awkward angle, and bruises swelled in all the places there weren't already bandages on.

"What happened to you?" she murmured, knowing he wouldn't answer. He was either knocked out or in deep sleep. _If not dead, _her brain quickly added.

Her gaze flickered to his paperwork sitting on a desk nearby. Information. Her hands itched to steal it and flip through its contents, to find out the truth—why they were the only ones in this place. But before she could reach it, a faint _ding _of an elevator caught her attention. Her gaze snapped away from the clipboard and she began to back out of the room.

"…not enough time."

"Do I look like I care? Listen to me—that boy needs the operation, and I personally don't recommend…"

The voices seemed to be getting closer. She stole one last regretful glance at the packet of information, then quietly slipped back out into the dark hallway and crept back to the safety her room, heart still racing from almost being caught.

"You alright?" Chelsea threw her an odd look.

"Uh-huh," she managed breathlessly. Her grey eyes darted up to meet Chelsea's and she smiled reassuringly. "Fine."

_Better than the other patient._

"You should lie down," Chelsea advised as she clicked away on her keyboard, peering at the monitor over her oversized, fuchsia-rimmed glasses. Katniss nodded absently and slid back into her bed, as Chelsea continued to mutter, "Give your head a rest. Nurse Tate should be here anyyy second now…"

Right on cue, the door swung open and Caria Tate strode in with her typical air of authority. "Report," she ordered while sanitizing her hands.

"Patient is healthy and at eighty five percent," Chelsea replied hurriedly.

"Hmph. I should hope so."

"What do you mean by 'eight five percent'?" Katniss frowned.

"Ignore her," Caria waved her hand dismissively. "Syringe?"

Katniss threw a scathing glare at Caria as Chelsea retrieved another syringe and handed it over to Caria.

"Wait, I have a question," Katniss spoke quickly.

"As always," Caria sniffed, "And as always, I shall ignore it. Now, your arm, please."

"Not until you tell me who the other patient is, and why he's here." Katniss said, steadily gazing into Caria's violet eyes.

For almost a full second, Caria's face mirrored one of surprise; eyebrows drawn high on her forehead, jaw slackened, and eyes widened in alarm. But in one blink, she had composed herself back into her formal disposition, if not slightly angrier.

"You had no right to enter any other rooms without our permission," she hissed.

"But I did," Katniss said, "And I know what I saw. Someone else is here. And he's a tribute, isn't he? But something happened to him—"

"That's enough," Caria breathed heavily and grabbed Katniss' arm with a surprising amount of force.

"Why are we here?" Katniss said exasperatedly, rather than repeating her usual "Why am I here?" She twisted her arm away from Caria and, looking her in the eye, asked "And why can't you answer me?"

* * *

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**AN: **And so the conspiracies, theories and mystery begin! I wanted to try writing something a bit different than the Games because I know that's been done plenty of times before, so this is sort of like Bourne meets HG meets hospital? haha I don't want to give too much away, so sorry for the sucky summary.

Hopefully this was a good enough introduction. The beginning was probably trippy, but it's pretty important (as are all of her flashbacks), so keep that in mind. Another reminder: it's rated M for a reason. Mostly language, but I'm foreseeing a bit more than that in later chapters. Review, please? xx

Zara


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